Chapter 17

We kept our course southwardly for four days after giving up the
search for Glass’s islands, without meeting with any ice at all.
On the twenty-sixth, at noon, we were in latitude 63 degrees 23’
S., longitude 41 degrees 25’ W. We now saw several large ice
islands, and a floe of field ice, not, however, of any great
extent. The winds generally blew from the southeast, or the
northeast, but were very light. Whenever we had a westerly wind,
which was seldom, it was invariably attended with a rain squall.
Every day we had more or less snow. The thermometer, on the
twenty-seventh stood at thirty-five.

January 1, 1828.—This day we found ourselves completely hemmed in
by the ice, and our prospects looked cheerless indeed. A strong
gale blew, during the whole forenoon, from the northeast, and
drove large cakes of the drift against the rudder and counter
with such violence that we all trembled for the consequences.
Toward evening, the gale still blowing with fury, a large field
in front separated, and we were enabled, by carrying a press of
sail to force a passage through the smaller flakes into some open
water beyond. As we approached this space we took in sail by
degrees, and having at length got clear, lay-to under a single
reefed foresail.

January 2.—We had now tolerably pleasant weather. At noon we
found ourselves in latitude 69 degrees 10’ S, longitude 42
degrees 20’ W, having crossed the Antarctic circle. Very little
ice was to be seen to the southward, although large fields of it
lay behind us. This day we rigged some sounding gear, using a
large iron pot capable of holding twenty gallons, and a line of
two hundred fathoms. We found the current setting to the north,
about a quarter of a mile per hour. The temperature of the air
was now about thirty-three. Here we found the variation to be 14
degrees 28’ easterly, per azimuth.

January 5.—We had still held on to the southward without any very
great impediments. On this morning, however, being in latitude 73
degrees 15’ E., longitude 42 degrees 10’ W, we were again brought
to a stand by an immense expanse of firm ice. We saw,
nevertheless, much open water to the southward, and felt no doubt
of being able to reach it eventually. Standing to the eastward
along the edge of the floe, we at length came to a passage of
about a mile in width, through which we warped our way by
sundown. The sea in which we now were was thickly covered with
ice islands, but had no field ice, and we pushed on boldly as
before. The cold did not seem to increase, although we had snow
very frequently, and now and then hail squalls of great violence.
Immense flocks of the albatross flew over the schooner this day,
going from southeast to northwest.

January 7.—The sea still remained pretty well open, so that we
had no difficulty in holding on our course. To the westward we
saw some icebergs of incredible size, and in the afternoon passed
very near one whose summit could not have been less than four
hundred fathoms from the surface of the ocean. Its girth was
probably, at the base, three-quarters of a league, and several
streams of water were running from crevices in its sides. We
remained in sight of this island two days, and then only lost it
in a fog.

January 10.—Early this morning we had the misfortune to lose a
man overboard. He was an American named Peter Vredenburgh, a
native of New York, and was one of the most valuable hands on
board the schooner. In going over the bows his foot slipped, and
he fell between two cakes of ice, never rising again. At noon of
this day we were in latitude 78 degrees 30’, longitude 40 degrees
15’ W. The cold was now excessive, and we had hail squalls
continually from the northward and eastward. In this direction
also we saw several more immense icebergs, and the whole horizon
to the eastward appeared to be blocked up with field ice, rising
in tiers, one mass above the other. Some driftwood floated by
during the evening, and a great quantity of birds flew over,
among which were nellies, peterels, albatrosses, and a large bird
of a brilliant blue plumage. The variation here, per azimuth, was
less than it had been previously to our passing the Antarctic
circle.

January 12.—Our passage to the south again looked doubtful, as
nothing was to be seen in the direction of the pole but one
apparently limitless floe, backed by absolute mountains of ragged
ice, one precipice of which arose frowningly above the other. We
stood to the westward until the fourteenth, in the hope of
finding an entrance.

January 14.—This morning we reached the western extremity of the
field which had impeded us, and, weathering it, came to an open
sea, without a particle of ice. Upon sounding with two hundred
fathoms, we here found a current setting southwardly at the rate
of half a mile per hour. The temperature of the air was
forty-seven, that of the water thirty-four. We now sailed to the
southward without meeting any interruption of moment until the
sixteenth, when, at noon, we were in latitude 81 degrees 21’,
longitude 42 degrees W. We here again sounded, and found a
current setting still southwardly, and at the rate of three
quarters of a mile per hour. The variation per azimuth had
diminished, and the temperature of the air was mild and pleasant,
the thermometer being as high as fifty-one. At this period not a
particle of ice was to be discovered. All hands on board now felt
certain of attaining the pole.

January 17.—This day was full of incident. Innumerable flights of
birds flew over us from the southward, and several were shot from
the deck, one of them, a species of pelican, proved to be
excellent eating. About midday a small floe of ice was seen from
the masthead off the larboard bow, and upon it there appeared to
be some large animal. As the weather was good and nearly calm,
Captain Guy ordered out two of the boats to see what it was. Dirk
Peters and myself accompanied the mate in the larger boat. Upon
coming up with the floe, we perceived that it was in the
possession of a gigantic creature of the race of the Arctic bear,
but far exceeding in size the largest of these animals. Being
well armed, we made no scruple of attacking it at once. Several
shots were fired in quick succession, the most of which took
effect, apparently, in the head and body. Nothing discouraged,
however, the monster threw himself from the ice, and swam with
open jaws, to the boat in which were Peters and myself. Owing to
the confusion which ensued among us at this unexpected turn of
the adventure, no person was ready immediately with a second
shot, and the bear had actually succeeded in getting half his
vast bulk across our gunwale, and seizing one of the men by the
small of his back, before any efficient means were taken to repel
him. In this extremity nothing but the promptness and agility of
Peters saved us from destruction. Leaping upon the back of the
huge beast, he plunged the blade of a knife behind the neck,
reaching the spinal marrow at a blow. The brute tumbled into the
sea lifeless, and without a struggle, rolling over Peters as he
fell. The latter soon recovered himself, and a rope being thrown
him, he secured the carcass before entering the boat. We then
returned in triumph to the schooner, towing our trophy behind us.
This bear, upon admeasurement, proved to be full fifteen feet in
his greatest length. His wool was perfectly white, and very
coarse, curling tightly. The eyes were of a blood red, and larger
than those of the Arctic bear, the snout also more rounded,
rather resembling the snout of the bulldog. The meat was tender,
but excessively rank and fishy, although the men devoured it with
avidity, and declared it excellent eating.

Scarcely had we got our prize alongside, when the man at the
masthead gave the joyful shout of “land on the starboard bow!”
All hands were now upon the alert, and, a breeze springing up
very opportunely from the northward and eastward, we were soon
close in with the coast. It proved to be a low rocky islet, of
about a league in circumference, and altogether destitute of
vegetation, if we except a species of prickly pear. In
approaching it from the northward, a singular ledge of rock is
seen projecting into the sea, and bearing a strong resemblance to
corded bales of cotton. Around this ledge to the westward is a
small bay, at the bottom of which our boats effected a convenient
landing.

It did not take us long to explore every portion of the island,
but, with one exception, we found nothing worthy of our
observation. In the southern extremity, we picked up near the
shore, half buried in a pile of loose stones, a piece of wood,
which seemed to have formed the prow of a canoe. There had been
evidently some attempt at carving upon it, and Captain Guy
fancied that he made out the figure of a tortoise, but the
resemblance did not strike me very forcibly. Besides this prow,
if such it were, we found no other token that any living creature
had ever been here before. Around the coast we discovered
occasional small floes of ice—but these were very few. The exact
situation of the islet (to which Captain Guy gave the name of
Bennet’s Islet, in honour of his partner in the ownership of the
schooner) is 82 degrees 50’ S. latitude, 42 degrees 20’ W.
longitude.

We had now advanced to the southward more than eight degrees
farther than any previous navigators, and the sea still lay
perfectly open before us. We found, too, that the variation
uniformly decreased as we proceeded, and, what was still more
surprising, that the temperature of the air, and latterly of the
water, became milder. The weather might even be called pleasant,
and we had a steady but very gentle breeze always from some
northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear, with
now and then a slight appearance of thin vapour in the southern
horizon—this, however, was invariably of brief duration. Two
difficulties alone presented themselves to our view; we were
getting short of fuel, and symptoms of scurvy had occurred among
several of the crew. These considerations began to impress upon
Captain Guy the necessity of returning, and he spoke of it
frequently. For my own part, confident as I was of soon arriving
at land of some description upon the course we were pursuing, and
having every reason to believe, from present appearances, that we
should not find it the sterile soil met with in the higher Arctic
latitudes, I warmly pressed upon him the expediency of
persevering, at least for a few days longer, in the direction we
were now holding. So tempting an opportunity of solving the great
problem in regard to an Antarctic continent had never yet been
afforded to man, and I confess that I felt myself bursting with
indignation at the timid and ill-timed suggestions of our
commander. I believe, indeed, that what I could not refrain from
saying to him on this head had the effect of inducing him to push
on. While, therefore, I cannot but lament the most unfortunate
and bloody events which immediately arose from my advice, I must
still be allowed to feel some degree of gratification at having
been instrumental, however remotely, in opening to the eye of
science one of the most intensely exciting secrets which has ever
engrossed its attention.